Mage Prime (Book 2) (3 page)

Normally steady and level-headed, Vintar gazed, trembling and ashen faced at the ghastly pile near his feet. Karryl stumbled to where the two stinking, evil-conceived corpses lay and stared down at them in numbed disbelief.

Giving the gruesome pile a wide berth, Vintar edged up to Karryl’s side. “Beg pardon sir, but… what just happened? And what are… er… were those bloody things?”

Karryl shook his head in attempt to clear it. With eyes which seemed to have aged a lifetime he looked into Vintar’s own as he placed a comradely hand on the man’s shoulder. “Those, Sergeant, are almost assuredly grelfons; creatures of legend, and the epitome of evil. Not by any stretch of the imagination should they exist. Somehow, some malevolent power has resurrected them from the mists of legend and sent them here.”

Drawing both hands down his sweat-streaked face, Karryl glanced at the malodorous corpses. “My guess is that the spell of transference and materialisation was miscast and they were discovered. I don’t think that was the intention. I also suspect that these particular specimens were juveniles. Had they been mature they would almost certainly have attacked me without hesitation. In that case I would not be standing here now.”

The sergeant looked aghast and rubbed his hands over his own sweating face. “So they’re natural born killers then, sir?”

Karryl’s face was thunderous. “Killers, yes. Natural born? No. Nothing could be further from the truth. When you and your men have had time to recover and made your reports, come to our apartments and I’ll show you what little information we have on these vile creatures.”

They stood a while in silent communion, gazing with revulsion at the aberrant and lifeless forms. An acidic greenish-yellow blood oozed from the diabolically hideous heads, and down the shafts of the weapons on which they were impaled. Severely shaken, but otherwise none the worse for their terrifying encounter, the two remaining soldiers hauled themselves to their feet and came to stand beside their sergeant.

Trying desperately to avoid looking at the loathsome corpses, one of the men gestured in their general direction. “Shall we get these cleared away, Sarge?”

Vintar shook his head, looking at Karryl as if for corroboration. “Not yet. I think this matter is in Master Symon’s domain. Until he makes contact with us, we’ll remain on guard.” He forced a wry smile. “But I don’t think it would be out of order to move back along the corridor a pace or three. That stench is a mite intense.”

The little group retreated, the lingering glow of the magical light fading away, leaving them to continue their vigil in a whisper-inducing darkness. With a small degree of uncertainty as to the amount of power remaining to him, Karryl held out his hand, palm up. To his relief, a small softly glowing orb appeared and hovered somewhat unsteadily above his hand. With a silent ‘Thank you’ Karryl released it into the air. After a couple of false starts it bobbed and jiggled, then floated serenely upwards, dispelling the darkness and bathing the corridor’s occupants in a comforting golden light. Putting his back against the wall, Karryl slid down to the floor, thinking rather incongruously that he had been here before, and very recently. His legs stretched out in front of him, he had just made himself something like comfortable when the rhythmic cadence of speed marching began to reverberate along the corridor. After pushing himself reluctantly back to his feet, Karryl joined Vintar and the guards in looking for the source of the sound.

At the edge of the circle of soft light cast by the floating orb, a strangely clad figure appeared, closely followed by a small squad of stern-faced soldiers bristling with weapons, the golden light glinting on polished helms. Three paces from where Karryl stood, the figure raised a hand, bringing the squad to a precise and disciplined halt. The figure stepped forward, the full light revealing a solidly built, russet-haired man of medium height, resplendent in a wide-sleeved, silver-grey robe which fell in dozens of narrow pleats to his ankles. Embroidered at the neck and sleeve edges, Karryl could see unfamiliar symbols picked out in black. Around the stranger’s neck hung a large, multi-faceted ice-blue jewel supported by a thick gold chain. Making a slight bow, he regarded Karryl thoughtfully.

His voice was a rumbling baritone. “Had a bit of a problem, I hear.”

For a brief heart-stopping moment Karryl felt a flicker of recognition, but as fast as it came it vanished again. Letting it pass he gestured into the gloom down the corridor. “I think it’s only a matter of getting the bodies cleared away. We’re just waiting for Master Symon to get back.”

Beckoning Karryl to follow, the stranger strode along to where the corpses lay. He stood looking down at them, his eyebrows gathered in a frown of deep consternation. “Master Symon is injured, although not seriously. He has asked that I handle the matter until such time as he is able to rejoin us.”

Before Karryl could reply, the stranger leaned close and murmured in his ear. “Do you know if these were the only ones?”

Karryl shook his head. “Not for certain, but I did get the distinct impression that they were alone. Why? Do you think there might be others, er… what do I call you?”

The stranger’s hand went to the jewel which hung around his neck. “I am known by many names, but Magnor will do for now. I have to take these corpses to where they can be studied, in order to confirm that they are indeed grelfons, although there seems to be little doubt. Now, if you would go and dismiss the guards, then return to me, we have a little magical work to attend to.”

Not too happy about leaving Karryl and Magnor alone, Vintar eventually persuaded the young magician to let him leave two guards stationed at the end of an adjoining corridor, out of sight but within earshot.

Vintar and the squad departed, and Karryl rejoined Magnor. “What are you going to do? Dematerialise them?”

Magnor stood with his fists jammed into his waist, his mouth pursed and his eyebrows in a flurry of activity. He turned a steely blue gaze on Karryl. “Not only them, but us as well. I hope you hadn’t got anything planned. The elders will want to hear every last detail. So, when we’ve dealt with these horrible things, I want you to try and remember everything you heard, smelt and saw during this little confrontation.”

Karryl blew out his cheeks and ran his fingers through his tousled hair. “Well, I was hoping to see Master Symon, but if, as you say, he’s not seriously injured, I suppose it can wait. What do you want me to do?”

Magnor gave a satisfied little nod. “Go round to the other side of this pile, and stand facing me. First we will work a spell of enclosing then you can levitate the bundled bodies while I cast a cleansing spell. When that’s done I will dematerialise us all. How does that sound?”

Karryl pulled thoughtfully at his earlobe. “All right, except that I’ve never actually done a spell of enclosing. I’ve seen it done and read it a few times though.” Magnor cocked his head to one side. Once again Karryl felt the flicker of recognition, but again it vanished as quickly as it came. “Can you remember what you read?”

Karryl gave an assertive nod. “Oh. Yes; if you trust me. Which part shall I take?”

Magnor told him. Leaning towards each other, the two magicians stretched out their arms until their fingertips were almost touching. Magnor began to intone, his deep rich voice reverberating through the acrid air around them. As he spoke the final word, skeins of silvery threads began to emanate from his fingertips, snaking forward until they connected with Karryl’s. Slowly spreading his arms wide, he nodded to Karryl who followed suit. The threads swirled and spun. Gradually they wove themselves into an opaque, iridescent film, stretching and spreading until there was enough of it to cover the bodies. With a shake of his arms and wrists as if he were spreading a bed-sheet, Magnor released the film. Slowly it floated downwards as he intoned the rest of the spell. At that moment Karryl held his arms out to his sides, palms downwards. Sinking down into a crouch, he closed his hands into fists and drew them together in front of him. He watched critically as the shimmering film touched the floor and began to edge slowly and smoothly beneath the corpses of the grelfons. Re-appearing on Magnor’s side, it formed an invisible join.

Karryl slowly stood up, failing to suppress a grin as he saw Magnor glowering in his direction. “Sorry Magnor, I didn’t have time to tell you. I seem to have this ability to work spells without actually having to say or do anything.” His grin widened. “I suppose you could call it a gift. Symon seems to find it quite amusing; baffling but amusing.”

Magnor rolled his eyes upwards. “It seems to me Symon spends much of his life in a state of amusement. And you’re right. It is a gift. Now then, let’s get this unsavoury parcel shifted. Can you dematerialise indoors?”

“Well, I’ve always paired with Symon when I’ve done it, but now you mention it, I think we’ve always been outside. Why? Is there a difference?”

The russet-haired magician gave a dismissive flick of his hand. “Not at all, but try telling that to Symon. I’m just wondering if, after all this time he’s now realised he can do it when he has to, wherever he is. Right, if you’re ready, let’s get this heap off the floor. I’ll have a quick clean round, then we’ll be off.”

Karryl cast the spell of levitation, watching the misshapen and now unidentifiable bundle rise to hover about two feet above the floor. He held it there while, with a few staccato phrases, Magnor proceeded to clean the ichorous stains off the walls and floor, then cleansed the stale air about them with a steady and gentle humming. The stains began to fade until they were no more than barely discernible smudges on the stone floor, and the air was filled with a refreshing tang reminiscent of ferns and moist soil.

Magnor moved to stand beside Karryl and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Bring that bundle up a bit higher and put a hand on it, then I’ll take us to where we have to go.”

The air shimmered around them, strands of silver-grey and steely blue spiralling upwards in a gradually fading mist, until all trace of them had vanished.

It was a breathtakingly massive cavern, a soft greenish light filtering down from an indefinable source high above Karryl’s head. He looked around him, turning slowly round on the spot where he stood, unable to take in everything in one glance. Everywhere he looked, huge ferns planted in massive earthenware pots swayed gently in a comfortably cool breeze, bringing with it an invigorating fragrance which defied all his attempts to identify.

Feeling a hand fall gently on his shoulder, he turned to look into Magnor’s steely-blue eyes. “Where are we?”

Magnor gave a deep, rumbling chuckle, and yet again Karryl lost his tenuous grasp on the flicker of recognition. “This is the entrance to the place where my people live.”

Puzzled, Karryl frowned. “D’you mean you live underground?”

Magnor smiled. “Indeed, no. Our country is very green and beautiful, the kind of place in which many people would give a fortune to live. Unfortunately I am not at liberty to show it to you; neither can I reveal its location. Not yet, anyway. Now, if you’ve finished gazing around I’ll take you to meet the rest of the elders.”

Karryl took one more look around him. “Where’s… you know?”

“Whisked away while you were gawping about. Quite safe. You won’t see those particular corpses again. Come on; this way.”

Although he was unable to see any kind of doorway or portal, Karryl dutifully followed as Magnor strode towards a particularly massive and luxuriant fern. As they approached, the magician spoke a brief command, whereupon the fern and the appropriately large pot in which it was growing slid noiselessly to one side. Following Magnor through a narrow, arched and intriguingly decorated portal, Karryl found himself in another cave. However, this one was in complete contrast to the one in which he had first arrived. Here, there were no ferns, and the light was bright and golden. The walls were cut straight and smooth, the entire cavern fashioned in the shape of a hexagon. Against one wall about ten paces directly in front of him, five august and elderly men in robes identical to that which Magnor wore, sat at a long, polished wooden table. They all bore expressions of grave concern on their fatherly faces. The magician stepped forward and spoke to them in a throaty, slightly guttural language which Karryl failed to recognise.

Magnor turned and beckoned Karryl forward. “Master Karryl, I have brought you before the elders of our people. Fear not to tell them of all that has transpired, and share with them your thoughts. As am I, they are fully conversant with your language.”

Giving him an encouraging pat on the shoulder, Magnor moved around the table, brought out a chair to the front for Karryl, then took up the vacant sixth seat which Karryl had noticed.

He smiled and nodded, gesturing for Karryl to be seated. “Hopefully, this won’t take long. Remember as much as you can, but don’t rush. If you’re unsure how to describe something, make a clear image in your mind. That will suffice.”

Karryl gave each of the elders a dubious frown. “If you’re going to be reading my mind, which is what I assume you’re implying, isn’t that a sort of invasion of privacy? There might be something in there I don’t want you to see.”

The elder in the centre leaned forward, hands clasped as he rested his arms on the table. His voice was deep and resonant, and seemed to Karryl to have a soothing quality. “We can be very selective, and will not venture to touch your mind unless you make a sign that you wish us to retrieve the images you are providing. It is merely a facility we are able to use, should you have difficulty.”

Somewhat placated, Karryl gave a little smile. Leaning back, he rested his arms on the arms of the chair, quite ready to answer their questions regarding the horrendous event which had so recently befallen him. It turned out that Magnor was right. Before too long they had finished, and Karryl was being provided with refreshments, while one or other of the elders chatted amiably to him for a while about his work and about Symon.

Eventually they each took their leave, and Magnor took him back to the cool ferny cavern. “Can you make your own way back? It’s quite a distance. I don’t know if you need to make adjustments.”

Karryl shook his head. “I’ll be fine. It’s probably the furthest I’ve travelled in this way, but I don’t think distance will affect the equation. You might wait here for a while though. I haven’t done it very often. I might get it wrong and have to come back.”

Magnor threw back his head and laughed. “I doubt that will happen, but I’ll wait anyway.” He held out a golden-skinned hand. “Tell Symon I’m glad to have been of service. As his injuries weren’t as severe as he first thought, you probably won’t be needing me for a while. If you do, he knows how to contact me. Now we have to get to work on investigating those vile corpses, and attempt to discover the reason why they were in King Vailin’s palace.”

Just before he began the translocation spell, Karryl shook Magnor’s hand and looked into the magician’s steel-blue eyes. There was something in their expression that seemed so familiar, but again it eluded him. He left with the scent of ferns tickling his nostrils.

* * *

Assuming Symon would be in the Infirmary which lay close to the barracks, Karryl selected an arrival point just out of sight of the main entrance. To his surprise it was almost dark. He could see the lights gradually winking on in the streets of Vellethen below, as the lamplighter touched his flame to each one. After checking that he was as he should be, he strode round the end of the building and up to the infirmary door. He reached it just as Mordas was on her way out.

Holding the door open for her, he gestured with a sideways flick of his head. “How is he then?”

Her eyes were full of concern. “He’s not too badly hurt physically, although he’ll be doing nothing with his hands for a while, so he has to stay here, for the care.” Karryl nodded his head in understanding as Mordas went on. “It’s hard to say what’s going on in his mind though. He kept asking where you were, but we couldn’t tell him anything because we didn’t know either. We heard the full story from Sergeant Vintar. I tried everything in my power to save that poor soldier and failed. Vintar came to the mortuary with his commanding officer to formally identify the body. I get the impression that Master Symon is somehow blaming himself for what happened.”

She reached out to place a solicitous hand on Karryl’s arm, her eyes almost pleading with the young magician. “Go in and talk to him. Let him know you’re here for him. It’s quite likely he’ll snap out of it in a day or so, but until then we must do everything we can to support him. This whole rotten business is preying on his mind. You’re an unflustered, cheery sort of fellow on the whole. See if you can make him laugh. That’s always good medicine.”

Karryl backed in through the door then held it open with his foot. “Well, I’ll do my best, although I don’t usually have much trouble getting a laugh out of him. Are you going to come back in with me, or shall we meet in the hall tomorrow as usual?”

Mordas hitched her embroidered bag higher on her shoulder and took a pace away from the door. “We’ll meet at the hall, about mid-morning. I have quite a lot to do before I get there, but I expect Kimi will keep you occupied until I arrive.”

They said their goodbyes, and Karryl went in search of his master and mentor. The infirmary was laid out in the shape of a large letter T, with the entrance being in the centre of the top. Symon had been settled in a little room of his own at the right hand end of the crosspiece. When Karryl walked in, the little magician was pacing up and down, his face set in a frown, heavily bandaged hands held out in front of him like an albino battling-bug.

He scuttled over to his apprentice, reaching up and pressing his wrists against Karryl’s upper arms. “Thank goodness you’re back safely! I presume you and my associate went off somewhere to dispose of the remains?”

Karryl sat down heavily on the end of the narrow bed. The curtains in the little room had not been drawn, and he could make out the dense silhouette of the nearby barracks cutting across the star filled sky. He looked around the room, then ran his fingers through his dark hair and began to bring Symon up to date with the afternoon’s events. Symon sat on a wooden chair by the window, listening carefully, and dropping in the occasional question when Karryl paused for breath. When there was nothing more to tell, Symon sat quite still gazing out of the window, apparently deep in thought.

Just as Karryl was beginning to think perhaps the little magician had dozed off, Symon turned to him. “We haven’t heard the last of this. I fear that this is only the beginning. I’m inclined to agree with your view that the spell was miscast. In a perverse kind of a way that was fortunate for us. Otherwise we may have been unaware of the presence of these creatures until they were ready to reveal themselves and create even worse havoc.”

Karryl stood and began to pace the room, as Symon had been doing. “Were they grelfons?”

Symon’s expression was grim. “I’m certain of it. The one question to which we must find the answer as quickly as possible is, who is responsible for their resurrection? The next question is, why? Until we can find the answers we are completely in the dark.”

Karryl moved across to stand beside him. “I think our best hope is to wait for Magnor’s findings. I got the impression that his people were going to look into it pretty thoroughly. Assuming that there were only two of the creatures I should think we’re safe until he gets back to us.”

Symon seemed to take little consolation from the thought. His expression was bleak as he stood up and crossed the room.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he held the white balls of his bandaged hands in the air. “There’s not a lot I can do while I’m like this except think, and I certainly intend to do a lot of that. I also intend to use my mental powers a little more than usual, information gathering and that sort of thing. It will be interesting to see what I can come up with.”

He yawned and stretched, wincing as he inadvertently tried to flex his fingers.

With a heavy sigh, he turned his grey eyes up to Karryl. “I’m feeling really tired now, and I expect you are too. When you see Mordas, tell her to stop worrying about me. I’ve simply got a lot on my mind, which is only to be expected. Now, if you’ll pull those covers back and settle the pillows so that I can get into bed, I’m going to get some sleep.”

Having ensured that Symon was comfortable, Karryl wished him a good night, quietly closed the door behind him, and left the infirmary. As he ambled slowly up towards the palace he once more mulled over the day’s events in his mind. He realised that he too, had a lot to think about, and some questions to which, as yet, he didn’t have any answers. He had also completely forgotten about the letter he had written to Aenys. Slipping his fingers into the top of his pocket, he felt the reassuring edge of the folded vellum. Resolving then and there to take it directly to Jobling, he turned off to his right along a narrow gravelled path which led gently up the hill. From there it would take him round the back of a small group of buildings into the working heart of the palace; the kitchens and domestic quarters. If Jobling wasn’t there then somebody would almost certainly know where he could be found. Karryl smiled to himself as he thought of Aenys. Lengthening his stride he felt his mood lighten. The feeling was destined to be short-lived.